


I've Been Here

by ArchOfImagine



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Idiots in Love, Implied Mpreg, Inspired by a Movie, Kid Fic, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mentioned Pepper Potts/Tony Stark - Freeform, Mildly Dubious Consent, Naked Cuddling, Omega Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rutting, angsty steve, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23245645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine
Summary: Billionaire spunk."Buncha stupid assholes just waiting to be born, aren't ya? Just waiting for your chance to ruin my fucking life." He unscrewed the lid, tilting it ever-so-slightly over the sink. "Ahh! Look at ya now! Gonna die? Maybe. Maybe not. How's that fortune working out? Ohh no!" He continued on, tipping the jar back and forth and growling out angry words to the helpless little sperm.Until suddenly, somewhere on the other side of the apartment, there was a loud noise that startled him. His whole body flinched and his hand slipped and it took a full minute for his drunk mind to realize what had happened. The nice jar of billionaire spunk was in the sink, happily sliding down the drain."Shit."
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 13
Kudos: 229





	I've Been Here

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic is based vaguely on the movie 'The Switch' staring Jennifer Aniston and Jason Bateman. What started out as a comedic one-shot suddenly turned into an angsty Steve show, which has lead to over two months of working on this damn thing. 
> 
> As far as the 'dubious consent' tag: at one point sex happens during a rut. It is completely consensual from both parties, but because Steve is a bit out of his head for the majority of the rut, both the author and Bucky Barnes were worried about the dubiousness of him saying yes.

When you maxed out at about ninety pounds on a good day… it was hard to hold your liquor.

When your best friend from childhood — the man that you had been in love with since the fifth grade — decided he wanted a baby… it was hard not to drink.

It wasn't Bucky's fault. Bucky was a very non-traditional omega, and he had a hard time finding alphas that wanted to date him. He spent most of his time dating and sleeping with betas or other omegas, but that wasn't going to result in a pregnancy. So he had finally decided that he wanted to do things on his own.

Which is why Steve was drinking. Because he was in his best friend's apartment with a crowd of other people as they celebrated Bucky's _insemination_. The guy that he had picked as a donor (Tony _fucking_ Stark, aka New York's favorite billionaire, aka the husband of Bucky's boss, Pepper Potts), was there at the party, all alpha swag and charisma.

Everything that Steve could never be. Because for every ounce of non-traditional omega that Bucky Barnes was, Steve was a million times less traditional as an alpha. He was so lacking in alpha testosterone that the majority of people couldn't even pick up on his scent. Everyone usually just assumed he was a beta.

There was a cheering and carrying on in the living room, and Steve scrunched up his nose in disgust as he moved down the hallway towards the guest bathroom. He had to piss. And possibly throw up.

The door to the guest bathroom was locked, and wasn't that just his fucking luck? He should be a good guest and wait patiently, but it was Bucky's apartment… a place that he spent almost as much time in as his own studio. He waved off the guest bathroom like it would know he was pissed, and moved to open Bucky's bedroom door. It was, thank heavens, empty. 

He rolled his eyes at Bucky's messy bed and moved over to the master bath. _Also empty._ Thank God. He shut the door and moved over to the toilet holding himself up with the shelf behind the toilet as he pissed away three beers and too much vodka.

He was just shaking off the last drops, when he noticed something sitting on the bathroom counter. A specimen jar sat nestled in some kind of warmer tray, right there beside the sink. Steve zipped up his pants, flushed the toilet, and couldn't stop himself from reaching out for the jar. When he lifted it up, he saw the white stuff inside and felt something like aggravation and anger bubbling up inside him.

_Billionaire spunk._

"Buncha stupid assholes just waiting to be born, aren't ya? Just waiting for your chance to ruin my fucking life." He unscrewed the lid, tilting it ever-so-slightly over the sink. "Ahh! Look at ya now! Gonna die? Maybe. Maybe not. How's that fortune working out? Ohh no!" He continued on, tipping the jar back and forth and growling out angry words to the helpless little sperm.

Until suddenly, somewhere on the other side of the apartment, there was a loud noise that startled him. His whole body flinched and his hand slipped and it took a full minute for his drunk mind to realize what had happened. The nice jar of billionaire spunk was in the sink, happily sliding down the drain.

_"Shit."_

* * *

\--- **Six Years Later** \---

* * *

He was supposed to be preparing for the next comic launch. If he didn't get his shit together and get the drafts over to Sam, he was going to deal with a shit storm. Sam was a great friend and an even better publisher, but he did not take kindly to Steve being late on a project. 

Unfortunately every time he tried to look at his drafts and fix the details that needed fixing… well, his attention went back to the email that was open on his secondary screen.

_Steve!_

_Charlie and I are moving back to the city next month. Pepper needs some assistance with her new gallery, and honestly this farm life bs is driving me insane. I miss being able to blend into the crowd and not worry about what the hell Betty at the grocery thinks about my life choices._

_Ma is pissed I'm leaving, but she'll get over it._

_Anyways, I'm going to assume you haven't changed your number or address, so I'll get in touch when we're in town. Apparently Tony is setting us up at one of the corporate apartments in Brooklyn. He wanted to have us in the tower, but yeah no. I'm not risking losing my five-year-old terror in that place._

_See ya soon Stevie._

It had been five and a half years since Bucky decided that he wanted to move back to Indiana and raise his kid near his mom and sister. Steve hadn't seen him in almost _six years_ and all he could fucking focus on was one little thing…

Who the fuck was Charlie? Had Bucky mated in Indiana? Was that why he was moving back? The kid had been a girl. He knew that much from the birth announcement he had received. But at some point his anger and frustration over everything had him blocking out new messages. One would pop up and he'd send it immediately to a hidden folder where he wouldn't be desperate enough to open it. 

He was never going to be enough. Bucky had _handpicked_ his perfect alpha. There was no other way of explaining it. He had wanted a kid, and when faced with the idea of who he wanted as the kid's father…

Well, it wasn't like he ever stopped to ask Steve.

"Fuck Bucky Barnes," he growled, finally deleting the email and focusing back on his art. 

Faced with the current storyline in his comic, though, he couldn't get past the block. He finally saved it for later and opened up a new drawing. He let his anger transfer onto the page, creating a whole new issue for his main character to battle up against.

* * *

"What the fuck is this?"

"New draft."

"New—" Sam looked like he wanted to pull his hair out. "Steve. You've put your main character up against a foe that he can't beat. He literally is dead on the second page."

"Yup."

"We can't run this! We're in the middle of a five arc series? How the fuck do we explain Captain America being shot _multiple_ times?!"

"Find a new Captain."

"Steve— you can't just— _where are you going?_ "

* * *

On his thirtieth birthday he vowed to stop dating. He was tired of… well, all of it. So he stopped. It wasn't like he had ever _actually_ 'dated' someone. In reality he had spent a lot of time sitting in restaurants and knowing that the newest attempt had taken one look at him and walked away.

Steven Grant Rogers, ninety-pound asthmatic alpha, was the picture next to the definition of "ghosting" someone. 

Fuck, he would never admit it out loud, but he had never even convinced an omega to sleep with him. His sexual experience rounded out to a few betas that would only agree if they got to fuck _him._ Probably just to say they had. Which meant that he couldn't even say he got off during those few dalliances. More like he tried to fake it while yelling pitiful things in his own head. The type of things that people yelled at him on the street, if he was near rut and they caught his scent. 

His first apartment on his own, had been a fifth floor walk-up. On the third floor lived Mrs. O'Malley and her omega daughter. Steve would never forget the way that girl had laughed at him, every time he walked past her. 

Bucky thought he still lived in the same place. Bucky, who hadn't even _tried_ to keep contact (why would he, when he had his perfect billionaire baby to focus on), thought that Steve was still living the stagnant life of his mid-twenties. 

Instead, he had finally sold his first comic idea a year after Bucky left. From there, opportunities had just flown at him. One second he was working a retail job to pay rent, the next he was drawing for one of the biggest comic book distributors and putting a down payment onto his own condo.

Hell, it had been two fucking years since he swore off dating.

He was a different man. A new man.

And he was _not_ still in love with his childhood best friend. 

He ignored the incessant messages from Sam that were blowing up his phone, in favor of closing down his computer and packing up early. Fuck the world. It was Friday, and he was going to grab a stuffed crust pizza and a six pack and ignore the universe for two days.

* * *

\--- **Six Weeks Later** \---

* * *

In the days after Bucky left, it started to become fairly obvious that all of their "shared" friends were really just Bucky's friends that had put up with him always bringing Steve along. Invites stopped completely as soon as Bucky's car hit the turnpike.

In the months and years that followed, Steve towed a very thin line of acquaintances. He liked to believe that Sam really was his _friend_ and not just a guy from work that he sometimes hung out with… but there was always that little voice in the back of his head. 

So he existed in a very small bubble. And if he actually took the time to talk to a therapist, said therapist would probably tell him immediately that he blocked out the attempts of others to actually become his friend, and never tried to broaden his scope. Whatever. He was perfectly okay with spending his days drifting only from home to work and back again. There was nothing else he needed.

He was contemplating all of that as he got off of the G train at Clinton Ave. Thinking about how his life had changed since Bucky left… how everything had become somehow hollow?

Meaningless.

Especially after the email about Bucky and his perfect little family moving back to New York. It was one of the main reasons why he didn’t try to pursue contact himself. He might just self combust if he had to sit and watch Bucky and his alpha being all over each other all of the time. 

He would never have that. At some point he had even stopped lamenting that he would never have that with _Bucky_ , and accepted the even worse truth that he would never have that with _anyone._

And it was right about that point… right about the moment that his brain reminded him once more that he was always going to be fucking _alone_...

… when he stepped out into the road to cross over to his apartment, and promptly got hit by a car.

* * *

When he woke again, his head hurt and there was a deep exhaustion in his bones that made it hard to open his eyes. He laid there, trying to understand why he felt so utterly _terrible_ , when he finally heard the repetitive noise of a heart rate monitor. 

_Hospital,_ his brain supplied. 

He could remember the brief flash of lights and the sound of a car horn, but that was it. God, had he been hit by a damn taxi? Jesus, what a stereotypical New Yorker way to get hurt. 

There was a weight on top of him, settled right between his chest and stomach, and the struggle to breath was a bit scary. It wasn’t the same feeling as when he had an asthma attack, which was the concerning part. Was something wrong? Had he broken a rib?

He finally forced his eyes open, only to blink at the bright light and quickly close them again.

It took a while. A lot of squinting happened. Until _finally_ he was able to open his eyes and keep them open.

Unfortunately he had hit his head and he was obviously hallucinating… because there was a small, tiny, little bitty… _child_ sitting on top of him.

The small creature was perched carefully just below his rib cage, blonde hair a mess of tangled curls and flyaways, sparkling blue eyes staring straight at him.

When he tilted his head to the left and frowned at it (a girl, maybe?), the child mirrored him. Except there was no frown; only pure, unadulterated curiosity.

…

He was dead. 

That had to be it.

He had never been that close to a child before; it wasn't like he knew anyone with kids. He had a vague idea of what a child should look and act like, thanks to television and movies, but he had absolutely, positively, no reason to have a child sitting on him and making it hard for him to breathe.

He opened his mouth, ready to figure out where the hell he was and what exactly was going on, when the girl smiled softly. "Hi," she whispered. 

Before he could reply, she held her forefinger against her lips, then motioned to her left. He turned just enough to see what she was pointing at, only to feel his chest constricting for a different reason.

In the chair next to his hospital bed, Bucky sat slumped, head held up against his fist, hair falling in his face as he slept.

He still looked like every fantasy Steve had ever had, and it hurt so bad.

"Papa didn't sleep last night. Too worried about your dumbass, he said."

Steve tried to sit up, but it was impossible with the girl sitting where she was. "Can you move a little?" He managed to croak.

The girl wiggled back so that she was sitting on his legs instead. With his chest and arms free, Steve fumbled around until he found the remote to raise the back of the bed up.

Once he was sitting, he was able to look around the room enough to get his bearings straight. He had a nasal cannula in, helping him breath, and there was an iv drip going into his arm, but other than his head hurting… he couldn’t parse out any serious injuries.

He left the self-examination in favor of looking back at the little girl in his lap. She didn’t look like Bucky _or_ Tony Stark, which was strange. “Who are you?” he finally asked. His voice was still scratchy, so he leaned over to grab a cup of water on the rolling table next to his bed. 

While he swallowed down a bit of room temperature water, the little girl grinned. “Charlie.”

_Charlie?_ He thought back to Bucky’s email from a few weeks ago. ‘ _Charlie and I…_ ’ Charlie was Bucky’s _kid’s_ name? “Charlie.”

“Sarah Charlotte Barnes.” She was missing one front tooth and seemed to love showing off that fact by smiling constantly. “Sarah was my grandma, but she’s in heaven. So I go by Charlie.”

The machine that was monitoring his heart rate began to blare an alarm, and Steve knew that if he looked over, it would show his heart racing wildly. Because he could feel it, just as easily as he could feel the panic creeping in on him.

“Charlie,” Bucky said. It was like he wasn’t quite awake, but knew that the girl was probably causing problems. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was cognizant again and sitting up. “Charlie!” he hissed, standing quickly and grabbing her off of the bed. “What did you _do_?”

It was obvious that he hadn’t noticed that Steve was awake, his focus on Charlie and then on the nurse that rushed in. The nurse turned off the alarm and smiled down at Steve. "Hello Mr. Rogers. Back with us?"

" _Stevie,_ " Bucky whispered, finally realizing. 

Charlie wiggled loose from Bucky's arms and climbed back onto the edge of the bed. "He's okay, Nonna. I kept watch, just like you said."

The nurse, an older black woman, nodded down at Charlie. "I can see that, sweet girl. You wanna take that tour down to the nurses station now? I think these two might need some alone time." Bucky looked to the nurse, like he was about to say something, but she stopped him. "We'll be right down the hall coloring. You two take your time."

They both watched her leave, and Steve felt his brain swirling around the information that had been provided over the last few minutes. When they were alone, he looked up at Bucky and mumbled, "How—"

"I'm not _positive_ , but I did get like ten voicemails and texts from you the night after my party. You were drunk and apologizing for breaking something, but you weren't real clear on what." Bucky moved back over to sit in the chair next to Steve's hospital bed, scooting it forward so he could lean on the edge of the bed. "As soon as I found out I was having a girl, I knew I was going to name her Sarah. It felt right, and your momma was so sweet to me."

Memories of his mother flooded his mind and he imagined what she would think if she knew that she had a granddaughter. She would have probably been over the moon… spoiling Charlie before she was even born. God, he could never live up to the life that his mother had wanted for him. What would she say if she saw him now?

“I should have come back sooner,” Bucky said into the silence of the room. Surprised, Steve looked down at his friend, only to find that Bucky’s eyes were glued to his own hands. “I didn’t… I’ve spent a long time being afraid of alphas, Steve. I never wanted to tell you all of it… but it was bad. I couldn’t date, couldn’t have sex; I just sat at home and conjured up evil thoughts. Things that would happen to me if I gave in to my feelings.”

“Bucky,” he croaked.

“Something happened. Right after college. You remember Brock? Yeah. I didn’t want to open myself up to that again. And even though I knew that you could never do something like that, I still worried. I let it get the best of me, until one day I realized that I was hurting Charlie, just as much as I was hurting myself. And my own fears had also turned you into a victim. Because this sweet little ball of fire existed, and I was too scared to let you love her.”

He didn't know how to explain to Bucky that he would have been just as scared. As it was, the sudden idea that he was a _father_ was still fucking with his head. Especially when his hindbrain couldn't attach the idea of his own child, to an experience with an omega. He had read about it before… some random doctor’s office magazine about how it took alphas a few months to attach to adopted and surrogate children, because their brain couldn't establish the proper connection via scent and memory.

Instead of addressing it all, he glanced around the room and then down at his own body. There were no casts… no notable bandages aside from the tape holding his IV in. “I remember a car—”

“Yeah. You had a concussion, so they kept you here. Said you were a lucky bastard that you’ll only have a few bruises, but I think you owe that taxi driver a letter to say you lived. He was still here when we got here… worried that he had killed someone because of how frail you looked.” Bucky reached out, drawing the tip of his finger along the back of Steve’s hand. “You moved. Got a new phone number. Did you even get my email?”

_Fuck._ “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I thought… I thought you had gotten mated. I had never paid attention to what you named your daughter, so when you said ‘Charlie’ I assumed that meant you were moving back with your perfect nuclear family.”

“ _Our_ daughter.”

“Yours.” Steve’s gaze focused on the window so that he didn’t have to look at Bucky. “I have no claim to her, any more than Tony Stark would, if I hadn’t been a drunk idiot that night.”

Bucky’s answer was soft enough that Steve barely heard, “No, I suppose not.”

* * *

If his life was a romantic comedy, Steve would have gone home with Bucky and after mere minutes in each other’s presence, they would have admitted how crazy in love they were with each other, before mating and living happily ever after.

In reality, Steve took a cab back to his apartment, after Bucky had made an excuse that he needed to get Charlie fed and into bed at a reasonable time. When he got home, there were at least a dozen emails from Sam about meetings that he had missed that day — he ignored them in favor of taking some pain pills and going to bed early. 

The next day, life went on. He spent eight hours in his office, ignored lunch, and was so exhausted at the end of the day that he actually paid to take a cab home, rather than deal with public transit. It continued like that for ten days straight, as he pushed to finish his current comic and create a valid storyline that would explain the fact that his main character was dead. 

It was around nine in the morning on his eleventh day of work, that his office door was thrown open and suddenly Tony _fucking_ Stark was standing across from him. 

“Fuck me,” he moaned, a finger at his temple as he put his tablet pen down. “ _Stark_ , to what do I owe this obnoxious appearance?”

“That is absolutely no way to speak to your boss,” Tony replied, flopping down in the chair across from Steve.

“You aren’t—”

“Well, I mean, I am.” Tony shrugged, grabbing the stress ball off of Steve’s desk and beginning to toss it up into the air. “Apparently the owner of this fine publishing company has been wanting to retire, so I bought him out.”

He was going to throw something out the window. Hopefully Tony Stark. _’I’m sorry, officer, but the man was a dick and I was just saving the world.’_ He crossed his arms on his desk and thumped his head down on them. What the fuck had he done in the past, to warrant such a shitty existence?

"I had been a bit excited, ya know? To have an heir. Pepper and I both decided long ago that we weren't the parenting type, but that didn't mean it hadn't crossed my mind to find someone to leave my fortune to. When Bucky told us about his plans, it seemed like a natural process. I didn't need to take any claim to them as their father, but I could still recognize them as biologically being a Stark and thus an heir."

Steve groaned. He'd rather get hit by a million New York taxis, than sit and listen to another minute of Tony Stark discussing his fortune. "Tony—"

"Then I met Charlie and decided fuck biology, that kid is still inheriting everything."

Well that was fun. A sick feeling settled in his stomach. No matter what he did with the rest of his days, he would never be able to give Charlie what Tony would. 

It was just another way that he was a failure as an alpha.

He still had his head buried in his arms, but it didn’t take much to hear the huff of breath that Tony let out. “God, you stink. Do you realize you’re doing that? Don’t tell me this company doesn’t have a scent suppressant rule…”

That gave him pause. Steve slowly sat up and scrunched his nose, sniffing at his own armpits as if he could smell it. Odds were, if it was a strong alpha scent, it would only register amongst the people around him. “I took my suppressants.”

“Yeah? Because you smell like wallowing death.” Tony tilted his head. “I think you’ve triggered a rut in yourself.”

_No._ Steve glanced over to his calendar on the wall. “I have six more weeks until my next one is due.” It was like just the idea had started a migraine thumping in the back of his head… probably helped in part by the concussion a few days back… and maybe also the lack of sleep. “Fuck.”

“Alright then, come on.”

Tony stood, slowly circling around the desk. Steve shook his head. “I can’t leave. I have a deadline next week and—”

“And nothing. You can’t stay here in a rut.”

“But I don’t—” he groaned, closing his eyes at the onset of more pain. Tony was there, helping him to stand, and Steve caught the smallest trace of Bucky’s scent on Tony’s shirt. 

_Bucky._ His alpha was raging inside of his head, wanting an omega that it would never get to have. The pain was so intense that he felt his vision starting to get foggy.

* * *

“Tony … no, what if … and that’s … thing, what about … I just can’t.”

“Don’t worry. Pepper and I … Charlie will think …”

“But what do I…”

* * *

Steve had spent a large portion of his life feeling ill or laying in bed sick. When he had first presented as an alpha, the doctor had told his mother that he would be dead within two years. His body just wasn’t strong enough to handle a rut. 

What the doctor hadn’t known, was that Steve Rogers was just as stubborn as he was sickly. He survived the first rut, and every one after. 

When he next regained consciousness, though, he knew that the doctor’s words were finally coming back to haunt him. 

Everything hurt, from his head down to his toes. He writhed on the bed, feeling sweaty and achy; restless and exhausted. There was a burning in his gut, like he was hungry, but the idea of food almost made him want to throw up. That wasn't what he was hungry for!

_"Ahhh!"_ the restless energy exploded out in a wave, forcing him to scream in both agony and frustration. 

Suddenly there was a pinpoint of calm breaking through the muddled haze. "Shh." 

_Bucky._ He could be laying in his own grave and he would still recognize that voice. "Buck."

"Yeah, Stevie, I'm here."

"What?" That probably wasn't as coherent as he wanted it to be…

Bucky sighed heavily and continued gently brushing his fingers through Steve's hair. "You're in rut. A really bad one, according to the doctor that stopped by earlier. There was talk of taking you to the hospital, but you almost took the doctor's hand off when he said it. So we're here, waiting it out and hoping you don't get worse."

That was… confusing. He didn't feel like he was rutting. "I'm not…"

His thought trailed off but Bucky seemed to understand what he was thinking. "Horny?" Steve nodded. Bucky smiled. soft and caring, not a hint of mockery. "Doc says it’s a non-traditional rut. That’s why you aren’t feeling the normal symptoms.”

Steve couldn’t help another groan, because of fucking course he would manage to have some weird rut that wasn’t normal. “Thirsty,” he finally mumbled. When Bucky moved with the intention of getting him something, though, he cried out and latched onto his arm. “No, please.”

"Okay, big guy," Bucky smoothed back the hair from his brow. "Let me go get you something to drink and then we'll cuddle as long as you'd like."

Steve whimpered the entire time that the omega was away. When Bucky finally got back, he made sure Steve drank the bottle of water before snuggling into the nest of blankets.

* * *

Steve wasn't really aware of time passing, but the next time he woke up, he felt worlds better. His head no longer hurt, and his body didn't feel stretched too thin and off kilter. He was alone in a bedroom he didn't recognize, but he could hear soft singing through a doorway that sounded like Bucky.

His alpha swooned, so very much in love with James Buchanan Barnes.

He needed to get out of there before things got bad again, but the scent on the pillows had him turning and burying his face against them happily. 

A chuckle grabbed his attention and Steve blinked, looking over to a doorway where Bucky stood… _naked_. He growled before he could stop himself. He didn't care that Bucky still had a towel wrapped around his waist… all he cared about were the droplets of water dripping from Bucky's hair and sliding down tan skin.

So much skin.

"Steve? Stevie!"

He jumped, grabbing a pillow and quickly forcing it down over his erection. "What—"

"Sorry. Left my clothes out here. Didn't expect you to wake up." Bucky moved a few feet forward, eyes dashing from the bed, to the dresser just beyond it. "I uh… listen. The doc said you might transfer into normal rut symptoms after a couple days of the other." Bucky motioned to Steve's lap, "I'm guessing that kicked in?"

Steve nodded his head but when he tried to speak, all that came out was a whimper. He wanted. He wanted _so bad._

"Fuck," Bucky mumbled. "I wish there was a rulebook for shit like this. Because I feel like if I give in to what we both want, then I'll be taking advantage of you while you're in a state of mind that can't consent properly. I wouldn't want someone fucking me while I'm in heat, if we hadn't talked it over first."

There were a _lot_ of words flying at him. Steve was struggling just to avoid reaching beneath the blankets and stroking himself. But some of it was making sense. Breaking through. Bucky was worried about Steve. About whether or not Steve actually _wanted_ him. Right? Right. 

“You—” He moved his hands, crossing his arms and tucking both hands under his armpits, because it seemed like the best option for how to avoid touching himself. **Focus.** “I have been in love with you since I was in elementary school, Buck.”

“ _Steve._ ” 

He ignored the look of pain, shaking his head and staring down at the bedding. “Always hoped I’d grow up… magically turn into an alpha that was good enough for you. But I didn’t, so I just watched from the sidelines, hoping you would find happiness and fighting my own anger over the fact that I would never be the one providing that happiness.”

“You’re an idiot,” Bucky replied, rubbing the spot between his eyes. “We’re both idiots.”

“Wha—”

Bucky finally moved, walking to the empty side of the bed and sitting down. At first he was facing away from Steve, but finally he swiveled around so that they were staring at each other. “You thought you weren’t good enough for me? What gave you that kind of stupid idea?” When Steve motioned at his own body, Bucky popped him lightly on the shoulder, the way he used to when they were kids. “I’ve spent twenty years telling your scrawny ass that looks don’t make a man. How good you are as a person is far more important than whether or not you get winded carrying the groceries inside.” 

Steve rolled his eyes and huffed. “That was one time!”

“I know your momma didn’t raise a liar—”

“You’re such a dick,” Steve grumbled. He sat there for a long moment, before his body seemed to register how close Bucky was, and the reason they were currently having that conversation. 

He slammed the door on the voice inside his head that told him he _shouldn’t_ and closed the distance between them so that he could seal his mouth over Bucky’s and cut off any further talking. Unlike all of Steve’s fears… Bucky didn’t pull away. Instead, he moved into the kiss, shuffling forward until he’d crossed the empty space on the bed and was leaning over Steve. 

Steve's body was on fire with need. He let one hand curl up into Bucky's hair, while the other laid on his naked him. The towel had fallen off on the other side of the bed, which was just as well, because every bare inch of Bucky's skin was tantalizing. And there, just on the edges of Steve's olfactory senses, was the sweet tang of slick filling the air. He groaned, trying to pull Bucky closer and getting tangled in the sheets.

"Easy," Bucky soothed. He pulled away, ignoring Steve's efforts to drag him back, and shoved the blankets to the foot of the bed.

Steve's cock was standing proud, bead of precum at the tip. He watched, eyes wide in shock, as Bucky leaned down to lick it away. "Oh fuck!" There was a twinkle in the other man's eyes as he met Steve's gaze and wrapped his mouth completely around the head of the alpha's cock. "Nnnn—"

His head hit the wood of the headboard and his fingers clenched against the fitted sheet beneath him. He had never— no one had ever— "Bucky!" He cried out, suddenly reaching down to pull Bucky's head away. "Stop! Stop! I'm gonna… I don't wanna…" the words in his mind were a bit jumbled and having a hard time forming into a coherent thought. "Inside. Want you. _Please._ "

Bucky seemed to understand, because he let out a deep chuckle and began kissing his way back up Steve's body. "Okay, okay." His hand laid against Steve's cheek, forcing him to meet Bucky's gaze. "How do you want me, alpha?"

They were absolutely the right words. Steve leaned up, brushing his lips against the corner of Bucky's mouth. "Would you—" he hesitated, worried that if he asked for the wrong thing, Bucky would walk out and leave him there… alone. 

"Anything. Say it," Bucky urged.

"Present for me?"

Bucky kissed the tip of his nose and nodded. He shuffled around on the bed until suddenly he was on his knees and elbows, head resting on a pillow and ass in the air. 

" _Shit._ " Steve had never seen something so hot! Bucky's hole was already slick and dripping a bit down the back of his thighs. The smell was almost enough to have his knot pop on its own!

He moved, getting onto his knees and crawling to Bucky's body. His hands brushed along smooth skin, mapping freckles and scars, muscles and curves. If Steve was a praying man… Bucky's body was his altar. 

He ignored every scream from his alpha (the voice in the back of his mind that just wanted to _breed_ ), so that he could take just a little bit of time to remember everything properly. All of the senses being assaulted by everything that was Bucky Barnes. 

Steve leaned forward, hands gripping Bucky's ass as he allowed a moment to brush his tongue through all of that slick.

It was Bucky's turn to quiver and moan, Steve's name like a chant from his lips.

He could probably stay right in that spot for the rest of his life, Bucky’s taste on his tongue and moans overwhelming his senses. But Steve’s cock wanted in on the fun, and eventually he had to give in to the way his alpha was begging to be let loose. 

The first press of his dick into his omega’s tight hole was like a revolution. He threw his head back and screamed, unaware of anything in the world but them, right there in that moment.

It was over entirely too fast, and if Steve wasn’t exhausted by the endless rut he was going through, he might have felt ashamed. As it was, though, all he could feel was sweet bliss as his knot locked them together. He rolled them onto their sides and curled around Bucky like an octopus, barely able to blink through the haze as he whispered, “I love you,” right before sleep took him away.

* * *

\--- **One Week Later** \---

* * *

“She’s going to hate me.”

Bucky shook his head and shoved Steve’s shoulder. “She has never hated anything in her life… aside from peanut butter. I blame you for that one.”

Steve turned, prepared to head back for the elevator. “I don’t know how to be a dad, Bucky, this is a terrible fucking idea.”

A hand curled around his own, and Bucky carefully pulled him back to where they had been standing and staring at Tony and Pepper’s apartment door. “I didn’t know how to be a dad either. To be fair… sometimes I think I’m still fucking it up. Parenting is the hardest job and there is no training. You just wake up one day and get thrown into it.” Bucky kept his hand in Steve’s, before reaching out with his free hand to grab the door handle. “Steve, today is your day. Welcome to parenthood.”

As Bucky pushed the door open and stepped into the apartment first, Steve caught the briefest glance of the mating bite hidden beneath his hair. _Steve’s_ bite. 

He let himself be pulled inside, and watched as a dash of blonde hair came running at Bucky, as Charlie screamed, “Daddy! Daddy!”

When your best friend, the one that you had been in love with since fifth grade, the one that had said yes to being your mate, when they turned to you with your daughter in their hands…

… it was the best feeling in the entire universe.


End file.
